


(love is like a) heat wave

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Date, Coming Out, First Dates, M/M, Oral Sex, foggy is a weatherman, matt is a fanboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “Hold on,” he says. “I want to hear the weather.”“Of course,” Karen says, and Matt can’t really read her tone, but that’s—normal for him, so he just listens as Foggy Nelson, Channel Two’s beloved meteorologist, tells them all about the seven day forecast. He uses four different weather puns and Matt laughs at all of them, catching his breath and sighing when they cut to commercial.“Matt?” Karen asks, then, when Matt turns back to her. “What’s the weather going to be like on Wednesday?”Matt blinks, trying to remember.“Uhm,” he says. “I guess I didn’t catch it.”





	(love is like a) heat wave

**Author's Note:**

> the ending of this is abrupt but there may be more once I figure out what's happening next
> 
> also THE MOST FUN

Karen’s heels click, dull and familiar, on the ancient scarred linoleum, so Matt knows to smile as charmingly as he can smile before she slides into the booth in front of him.

“Stop with the face,” she says, sounding amused. “Have you ordered?”

“Your usual,” he says, pushing a to-go cup towards her. “And they made a new pot so your coffee’s three times as strong as the average human’s.”

“Imagine if you’d been this nice when we were dating,” she says, which hurts just a little, but she takes a drink and makes a low satisfied noise.

“That’s fair,” he says, sheepishly, smiling when Karen kicks him gently under the table.

“Anyway, speaking of dating—I’m setting you up,” she says.

“We broke up a week ago,” he says, slowly.

“I know, and I hesitate to inflict you on someone else,” she says, with only a little bit of heat, which is impressive. Their breakup was—bad. It was worse than bad, “but I know basically for a fact that you’re gonna love the guy.”

“. . .guy?” Matt asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Karen says, raising her eyebrows back. “Is that a problem?”

Matt’s never told her that he’s interested in guys, as well—he’s actually only told a handful of people, exclusively a priest and guys he was interested in. Karen has always been able to see through him, though. He’s genuinely surprised she didn’t figure out his big secret immediately.

The illegal one. Not the somewhat gay one.

“No,” Matt says, shrugging and leaning back in the booth. “So, who’s this guy?”

“He’s in—journalism,” Karen says, after a moment. “Very cute and funny and blonde.”

“You just described yourself,” Matt says, smiling.

“Well, I suspect he has a higher tolerance for bullshit than I do, so there’s a difference,” Karen says, lightly, but Matt’s pretty sure she’s smiling back. “Are you free this Friday night?”

He was going to go out patrolling, but he could always do that after the date.

“Why not?” he says.

“Why not indeed,” she murmurs, distractedly, texting someone. “I’ll have him text you the details.”

The waitress, Lorraine, brings their food and tousles Matt’s hair. He’s pretty sure that she unofficially adopted him when he first started coming here almost every morning a few years ago, right out of law school. She calls him affectionate nicknames and always tells him he looks handsome.

Matt loves it.

“You two make the prettiest couple,” she says, fondly.

“Not anymore,” Karen says, sighing out a laugh when Lorraine gasps.

“You’re tellin’ me _everything_ after he leaves, girlie,” she says. “I’m saving my fifteen for you.”

“I don’t—like this whole dynamic,” Matt says, gesturing between them. He has no idea what Karen will come up with, but hopefully not something that will ruin the longest and happiest relationship of his entire life—with Lorraine, who knows exactly how he likes his toast toasted.

Lorraine tousles his hair back in the direction it was originally combed.

“You keep this girl in your life, Matty,” she says, as she walks away. “You need someone to keep you straight.”

Karen says, dryly, after she’s gone, “Well, I’m definitely not keeping you straight.”

Matt’s about to reply when he hears a familiar name said on the TV across from them on the wall and immediately turns his head.

“Hold on,” he says. “I want to hear the weather.”

“Of course,” Karen says, and Matt can’t really read her tone, but that’s—normal for him, so he just listens as Foggy Nelson, Channel Two’s beloved meteorologist, tells them all about the seven day forecast. He uses four different weather puns and Matt laughs at all of them, catching his breath and sighing when they cut to commercial.

“Matt?” Karen asks, then, when Matt turns back to her. “What’s the weather going to be like on Wednesday?”

Matt blinks, trying to remember.

“Uhm,” he says. “I guess I didn’t catch it.”

“Hmm,” she says, noncommittally, and Matt’s about to ask what she’s implying when she says, “Anyway, back to your date—I told him he should pick the restaurant but to make sure that it’s got braille menus, so you won’t have to do that whole shuffle.”

“Thanks,” Matt says, smiling. “So, he knows that I’m blind? I thought you might hold out for the blind date joke.”

“It was tempting, but I wanted to be sure he wouldn’t be a dick about it,” she says, with a mouthful of egg white omelet. Matt appreciates that she can be gross in front of him. “I might hate you a little bit right now, but you’re still my best friend.”

Matt opens his mouth a couple of times, surprised that she’s still willing to say that after the way he treated her, and Karen huffs out a laugh and kicks him under the table again with a little more emphasis.

“You’re on thin ice, though,” she says. “You better be _really_ nice to me.”

“Breakfast is on me,” Matt says, immediately, and Karen laughs for real.

“Good boy.”

They eat in relative peace until Matt says, “Wait, what’s the guy’s name? My date?”

“Oh,” Karen says. “It’s, uh—Franklin.”

“Franklin,” Matt repeats.

It’s not a great name, but—he can get past it. It’ll make Karen happy, at least.

*

Franklin texts him later that day asking about an Italian restaurant that Matt already likes and they set a time to meet there, but that’s it, which Matt’s thankful for. Texting is kind of a hassle and he’d prefer for their first awkward conversation to be in person and not over the phone. At least he’d be able to hear his heart better.

He should probably be more ashamed of purposefully doing that on dates, but it’s not like he can read facial expressions. Might as well even the playing field a little.

At breakfast the morning of, Karen gives him a slightly condescending but probably due lesson on how to be a real person who goes on proper dates and doesn’t skip them to go punch people on rooftops. He takes as much of it to heart as he can, but he’s mostly going on this date to satisfy her so he’s not really expecting to go on any more.

At least, until he shows up at the restaurant and hears a familiar voice say his name like a question. _Really_ familiar. He turns and offers a hand, smiling when he asks, “Franklin?”

“Franklin?” the _ridiculously_ familiar voice says, laughing as he shakes Matt’s hand. “My grandmother’s the only one that calls me that. It’s Foggy, actually.”

“. . .Foggy,” Matt repeats, almost croaking. His heart stops. His heart _actually_ stops. He dies for at least five seconds before Foggy—Channel Two’s beloved meteorologist _Foggy Nelson—_ laughs again, squeezing Matt’s hand before he drops it.

“Sometimes, nicknames stick,” he says, cheerfully. “Better than Franklin, at least, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, then shakes his head. “I mean, Franklin’s a great name, but, uhm—”

“It’s a terrible name,” Foggy interrupts, sounding amused. “It makes me sound like I’m forty years older, instead of the young and handsome creature that’s before you. You’ll have to trust me on the handsome part.”

“Okay,” Matt says, smiling. He has to get his shit together and remember how to make sentences with his mouth, because it feels like everything in his entire life has changed and he doesn’t even know why. It’s not like Foggy’s a _real celebrity_ , Matt just likes his voice and thinks he’s really funny and sometimes thinks about what it would be like to just sit and talk with him and maybe—oh _shit._

It’s a crush. He has a crush.

If Karen was going to do this to him, the _least_ she could do was _tell him he had a crush._

“Okay,” Foggy says, gamely. “Come on, I got us a reservation so I could trick you into thinking I was fancy.”

“Okay,” Matt says, again, making an anguished face when he knows Foggy isn’t looking as they go inside.

They’re seated immediately, and, after they’ve ordered—both confiding that they know nothing about wine and then Foggy asking for two glasses of whatever the second cheapest red on the list is—Foggy says, “So, Matt—you have a perfectly normal name, so we can skip that. What do you do?”

“Law,” Matt says, sighing mid-sentence. “I law, I’m—I’m a lawyer. I’m normally _really_ good at talking, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Foggy says, laughing. “Dates are awful. Tell me all about all the lawing you do.”

Matt takes a deep steadying breath before he commits himself to being the person he actually is—occasionally charming, reasonably entertaining—someone who can really think thoughts and then express them with words. He does pretty well, all things considered, telling Foggy about leaving corporate law behind to narrowly make rent every month in exchange for integrity and pride and justice.

“That’s really brave,” Foggy says, sounding impressed.

“It’s—just what I had to do,” Matt says, shrugging.

“Right,” Foggy says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Can I ask you a question?”

“How I lost my sight?” Matt asks, trying not to be dry.

“No, I already know that, actually,” Foggy says, and Matt’s about to ask if Karen told him when he continues, “I grew up here—you were the talk of the town, after you saved that guy? I was going to ask if that’s why you do what you do. To—save people like that.”

Matt suddenly wants to tell him everything— _everything_ , why he does what he _does_ , because it sounds like he understands. It’s entirely possible that he just trusts his voice so much that he’s being lulled into it, though—Foggy gets him through major weather incidents and always makes sure that he knows to bring an umbrella and makes him laugh every single day.

He’s also the only reason Matt would even notice when there are black-outs.

Anyway, _I’m a dangerous, wanted vigilante_ is really a conversation you save for as long as possible until your partner finds out and leaves you.

“To help them,” Matt says, nodding. “Yeah, I think that—that definitely changed me.”

“You—are so cool, Matt Murdock,” Foggy says, grinning when Matt laughs and adding, “Seriously, I figured out who you were from context clues that Karen gave me and I was worried I might embarrass myself a little. Have I?”

“No,” Matt says, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Their food comes before he can say anything else, and an inevitable awkward silence envelops them as they start eating until Foggy starts describing different patrons in the restaurant to him, making Matt choke a couple of times from laughing but quickly step in to help Foggy give them tragic and dramatic back stories.

He’s thanking God that he’s somehow avoided talking about what Foggy does for a living when Foggy says, “Shit, I’ve introduced you to everyone in this restaurant and not myself.”

God hates him. Matt’s always known this, but this was a very clear shot.

“Who are you?” he asks, taking a deep breath.

“Foggy Nelson,” Foggy says. “I was wondering if you’d recognize my name from the news.”

“I don’t watch the news,” Matt says, abruptly. It seems extremely necessary that Foggy doesn’t know that Matt’s ever heard his voice or laughed at one of his objectively terrible jokes, but—that’s probably not going to work out. He realizes that as soon as he’s said it.

“You don’t— _ever_ watch the news?” Foggy asks, skeptically.

“I mean, I can just go outside,” Matt says. There’s no way Foggy’s going to believe this, so he’s got to pretend it’s a joke and not a terrible plan. “Y’know—it’s raining. Everyone’s mad. There’s traffic. I get the picture.”

Foggy’s silent for a long moment before he starts laughing, and it’s a different laugh than what Matt hears on the news—it’s loud and uninhibited and _perfect._

“I can’t decide if I’d rather you be fucking with me,” he says, “or if I _really_ hope you’re that chill.”

“I watch the news,” Matt says, smiling. Telling Foggy he’s chill would be the biggest lie he could tell.

“Which channel?” Foggy asks.

It’s not like Matt _has_ to say _yours, your channel, you’re sometimes the only reason that I get up in the morning!_

“Channel Two,” he says, calmly. “It’s pretty great, but they’ve got this _weatherman_ that’s just. . .”

Foggy draws in a sharp, dramatic breath.

“Choose your words wisely, Murdock,” he says, sounding delighted.

“Just. . .so funny,” Matt says. “Very charming. I’ve heard he’s handsome, too.”

“You heard right,” Foggy says. “Hey, this is really forward probably, but that thing where blind people touch faces to know what people look like—is that real?”

Matt really wants to lie to him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it, because in undergrad it felt okay to perpetuate stereotypes if they helped him get laid—especially if he could get laid enough to never have to see his roommate, who was the worst person that Matt’s ever known and that includes _villains_ now. But he’s not eighteen and horny now. He’s thirty.

And a little horny.

“It doesn’t really do much of anything,” he says, “but—I’ll do it if you want.”

“In front of this whole restaurant?” Foggy asks. “Karen didn’t tell me you were an exhibitionist.”

“Move your chair over here,” Matt says. “Is exhibitionism a plus or a minus?”

“I don’t share my kinks on the first date, Matt,” Foggy says, primly, as he drags his chair around to sit close to him. “So, you’re just touching my face for fun, then?”

“If you want me to,” Matt says, smiling. “You sounded interested in it and—everybody here will be touched to see a local celebrity doing community service with the disabled. So, good PR for you.”

“I’ll take it however I can get it,” Foggy says, shifting forward when Matt gestures at him.

“Plus,” he says, a little softer, fingers brushing Foggy’s cheeks on each side, “I’ll get to know what your face _feels_ like, which is a thing for me.”

“I’ll add that to the list I’m making about you in my head,” Foggy says, kind of shaky. “Hot, brave— _very_ into faces.”

Matt grins but he’s lost his words again as he cups Foggy’s face for a moment, listening to the way his heart speeds up and wondering if it would be kosher to just skip all of the foreplay and kiss him. To resist the urge, he starts to carefully trace the curve of Foggy’s nose, sweeping over his eyebrows, barely grazing his eyelids after they flutter shut when Matt’s fingers get close to him.

“There’s no way you haven’t used this to seduce people,” Foggy says, laughing breathily. “I didn’t know someone touching my eyes would feels so intimate.”

“Huh,” Matt says, lightly. “Funny, handsome—weird eye fetish.”

“Hey, you’re the one touchin’ em, buddy.”

“Shh,” Matt murmurs. “This is the best part.”

He barely brushes Foggy’s lips with his fingers and Foggy’s breath catches, voice barely audible when he says, “ _Oh.”_

Foggy’s the one who breaks and kisses Matt, reaching up to take his wrist and pull his hand away before he leans in to press their lips together, soft and lingering.

“Too fast?” Foggy asks.

“. . .let’s skip dessert,” Matt replies.

*

Foggy’s apartment smells like cookies and lemon.

“Did you just clean?” Matt asks, backed up against Foggy’s kitchen counter with his hands tucked into Foggy’s back pockets and his mouth close to his.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, laughing. “When I know I’m going to put out on the first date, I like to make sure my apartment looks nice. Or smells nice, I guess—does it?”

“Like fresh-baked cookies,” Matt says.

“. . .okay, don’t make fun of me, but you know that thing that realtors do to sell houses?” Foggy asks, and Matt starts laughing so hard that Foggy has to kiss him to shut him up, running his fingers through Matt’s hair before leaving them to rest on the back of Matt’s neck.

Matt takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Well,” he says, resting their foreheads together. “I’m sold.”

Foggy’s heart speeds up.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, voice dropping lower.

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs, happily. “I mean, you’re not the only one who puts out on the first date.”

“Fuck,” Foggy says, laughing when Matt drops to his knees. “I’m going to send Karen a fruit basket or something. An Edible Arrangement.”

Matt ignores him and gets to work, quickly opening Foggy’s slacks and pulling them and his boxers down just enough to get his dick out.

It’s possible that he’s thought about doing this before. For Foggy, specifically, which he knows is ridiculous—no interaction with him at all beyond listening to him talk about the _weather_ but Matt managed to conjure a fantasy about being on his knees for him. Maybe Matt’s under the news desk on live TV. Maybe it’s in the middle of a hurricane and they might be swept away at any moment. It doesn’t really matter, because now he’s here and it’s real and Foggy’s moan when Matt licks slowly up his dick is the best thing that Matt’s ever heard.

“Fuck,” Foggy breathes again, hand dropping to Matt’s head, fingers clenching in his hair when Matt takes him in his mouth and hollows his cheeks around him. “ _Fuck_.”

Based on what he knows, reducing Foggy to single syllables is impressive.

Matt’s going to see just how impressive he can be.

*

Matt draws it out as long as he can, until his knees and his jaw ache, until Foggy’s leaning backwards with his elbows on the counter and babbling. He hasn’t done this in a few years, not since a mock trial got unnecessarily heated and a gentlemanly handshake afterward with the opposing counsel led to Matt blowing him in the bathroom.

His impulse control could be better, but he thinks just dropping to his knees is really working out this time.

“God, _Matt_ ,” Foggy says, and Matt whines low in his throat, digging his fingers into Foggy’s hip and pulling off to catch his breath and slide the hand he has curled around the base of Foggy’s dick down—jerking him a few times with his hand slick with his own spit. Foggy laughs low and slides a hand into his hair to tug it gently so Matt tips his head up and smiles.

“Are you close?” he asks, hoarse.

“I’ve been close since the second you touched me,” Foggy says, petting Matt’s hair as he talks. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous—get up here and kiss me.”

“You can finish, if you want—” Matt starts, but he goes easily when Foggy pulls him into a kiss, so Matt’s basically draped over him and experimentally moving their hips together as soon as Foggy licks into his mouth.

“I have a bed,” Foggy gasps, turning his head to break the kiss and groan when Matt grinds against him. “It’s nice—got a mattress and everything.”

“Wow,” Matt says, stepping back to let Foggy take his hand and lead him to his bedroom, just a few stumbling steps—Matt could already tell from the way their voices sound in the room, but it’s not a big apartment. Probably smaller than his. “That local news money must be good.”

“Well,” Foggy says, shutting the door behind them. “I don’t want to brag, but I’ve also got—not one—but _two_ pillows.”

“Is that you inviting me to stay the night?” Matt asks.

“Well, it’s the least I can do after you fuck me as good as I think you will,” Foggy says. It takes a second for Matt to realize what he’s said and, when he does, he’s glad that he’s the only one that can hear his own heartbeat.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, warmly, reaching up to cup Foggy’s cheek.

“Yeah, if _you_ want,” Foggy says, laughing softly. “Oh—and one more thing.”

 _Anything_ , Matt thinks.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Let me take you out again.”

Foggy’s voice is sweet and hopeful and Matt—

Matt might be in _love_.

*

Foggy has to get up horrendously early in the morning to get to the station—Matt wakes up when he’s trying to maneuver out of his arms and makes a soft protesting noise, pulling him back in. Foggy laughs and hugs Matt back, pushing up to kiss him on the mouth. Matt’s barely opened his eyes.

“It’s not a time for humans to be awake,” Foggy whispers. “I have to get ready and leave.”

“Call in sick,” Matt says, yawning.

“God, you’re cute,” Foggy says, like he’s in pain, but he disentangles himself from Matt anyway, adding, “I’ve gotta go, though—if I’m not there, they’ll let one of the interns fill in and New York will realize that they could be looking at someone young and hot every morning.”

Matt just yawns louder and sits up, murmuring, “I’ve just got to find my clothes and I’ll head out.”

“The _bedhead_ ,” Foggy says, despairingly, crawling back on the bed to slide his fingers in Matt’s hair and kiss him again, smoothing it down as he sits back on his heels and adds, “Sleep in. It’s Saturday. Just lock the door behind you when you leave, maybe leave your underwear behind for me to remember you by.”

“. . .you know I’m basically a stranger, right?” Matt asks.

“Once someone’s been inside me, I no longer consider them a stranger,” Foggy says, pressing a kiss to Matt’s forehead before he shoves him lightly so Matt falls onto his back, laughing. “Anyway, I’m not worried about you stealing anything—I’m sure Karen wouldn’t set me up with a criminal.”

Matt winces, because—Foggy probably shouldn’t be _so_ sure about that.

He lies in bed listening to Foggy get ready, singing softly in the shower, drying his hair. He’s half-asleep by the time that Foggy’s ready to leave.

“I’ll call you,” Foggy says, softly, from the doorway.

“I’ll answer,” Matt says.

*

Karen’s already at the diner drinking coffee when Matt arrives in last night’s clothes and no underwear.

“Someone looks like they had a good date,” Karen says.

“You should’ve warned me,” Matt says, sliding into the booth next to her.

“About what?” Karen asks, missing _innocent_ by a mile and a half.

“About how you were setting me up with _Foggy Nelson_ ,” Matt says.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” Karen says, shrugging. “Last time we talked about him, you said you just liked his weather reports and that he was very informative and that you didn’t want to marry him and have his babies at all.”

“That last part didn’t happen,” Matt says, darkly.

“Look, I knew if I’d told you, you would probably panic and back out,” Karen says, “and waste an opportunity to meet someone who I really think could be good for you. And hopefully vice versa. Was I wrong?”

“. . .no,” Matt says, sighing.

“Is that sex hair?” Karen asks.

“It might be.”

“Do you want to marry him and have his babies?”

“Maybe _someday_ ,” Matt says, smiling when Karen laughs. “You’re a good matchmaker. I’m just a little—overwhelmed.”

“That’s a good sign—oh, wait, there’s your boyfriend now,” she says, gesturing unnecessarily at the TV. It’s turned up enough that she probably has to strain to hear his voice but it fills up the whole room for Matt, over the low chatter and the grill and the coffee maker.

Foggy happily chats his way through the day’s weather and the upcoming forecast, and Matt’s smiling just from that when Foggy says, “It’s gonna be a perfect sunny day, New York, so—as a professional—I recommend you do the following: go outside, remember what the sun feels like on your skin and kiss someone pretty. That’s my plan.”

“Your face right now,” Karen says.

“Shut up,” Matt murmurs.

“Have you found yourself a nice girl, Foggy?” the weekend anchor asks, a woman with a slightly too dramatic voice, like she’s trying to be an actor instead.

“No,” Foggy says, lightly, “but I just might’ve found myself a boy, Sandra.”

Matt’s breath catches.

“Shit, I’m texting him to make you lunch plans,” Karen says, immediately, and Matt doesn’t even have the words to stop her, since his ex-girlfriend probably shouldn’t be running his dating life. He’s too stunned, though.

Foggy just came out on air _because of Matt_.

He _likes_ him.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblring on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)


End file.
